


Dreamers Often Lie

by HeartlessMemo



Series: Soft Nandermo Hours (Stand-Alone Fics) [5]
Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Ether, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, attempted hypnosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo
Summary: Nandor has a nightmare and reaches out through the ether to Guillermo for comfort.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Series: Soft Nandermo Hours (Stand-Alone Fics) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881676
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	Dreamers Often Lie

**Author's Note:**

> What up. Is this anything? My brain can't work.

_Guillermo… Guillermo!_

Son of a-- 

The unnerving pull of the ether breaks into Guillermo's sleep and wrenches him back to consciousness. He’d only just drifted off after tucking his master into his coffin and completing the morning window sweep. He glances, bleary-eyed, at the digital clock beside his cot and notes that it isn’t even eight o’clock yet. _Great._ Just to prove that he can, he lies in bed for a moment longer, ignoring his master’s clear presence in his mind.

_GUILLERMO! I can tell you are trying to ignore me. Well--it won’t work! Come this instant unless you want another demerit!_

...You gotta be fucking kidding me...

_I HEARD THAT!_

Guillermo drags his feet across the foyer and down the hall to Nandor’s room. He’s dressed in an old, raggedy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants; his hair stands on end and he’s left his glasses behind on the nightstand. The crypt is dark; he gropes blindly for the lightswitch as he enters.

“Yes, master?” he calls in a voice gravelly with sleep. He walks over and rests his hands on the lid of the enormous, wooden coffin. His calloused palms press into the smooth grain of the wood and he imagines it’s his Master’s strong, dark-haired chest that he’s touching. He shakes himself, trying and failing, once again, to banish the yearning for his master. 

“Guillermo…” Nandor’s voice sounds small and unsure. Guillermo’s heart immediately swells with affection despite his annoyance at being woken up. He cherishes these fleeting moments when his master’s guard is down. “There’s nobody else with you, is there? Colin Robinson is not there?”

“No, of course not, master,” Guillermo replies, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Is there something you need? It’s...late.”

“Is it safe to open my coffin?” 

In answer, Guillermo turns to an end table and grabs the butter knife he uses for the tricky latch. Once he’s cracked the lid, Nandor pushes it open. He sits up on his elbows and regards Guillermo with a soft frown. His hair is an adorable tangle at the back of his head and his eyes are a little puffy. He plucks at a stray thread on his shirt sleeve, avoiding Guillermo’s gaze.

“Master?” Guillermo prompts. “I’m really tired…”

Nandor takes a deep, unnecessary breath before answering, “I was having a scary nightmare and I woke up in the dark all alone and I just…” He trails off. He looks so fucking small and vulnerable in the shirtsleeves and loose breeches that he wears for sleeping. 

Guillermo’s heart squeezes in his chest and he steps closer, resting his hands on the coffin’s fur-lined lip, imagining what it would feel like to reach out and touch his master instead. Nandor still refuses to meet his eyes and Guillermo realizes, yet again, that he will have to do the emotional heavy-lifting. 

“Would you like me to stay with you? While you sleep?”

The vampire’s shoulders loosen at once as the tension dissolves from his body. “That’s very kind of Guillermo... If you insist.”

Guillermo suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “Just let me get some things from my room.”

  
  


The chaise lounge is going to murder his back, but Guillermo tries to make it as comfortable as possible with the pillow and comforter from his bed. Nandor watches from his coffin with feigned nonchalance, as if he isn’t a 750-year-old blood-sucking fiend who’s afraid of the dark. Guillermo keeps catching him, from the corner of his eye, watching him as he smooths the blanket over the antique lounge. He can’t help the smile that curves his lips. His master relies on him in these fragile moments, allowing himself to be seen as something other than the cool, powerful warrior he presents to the world.

“Alright, sir,” he says, coming back to the coffin and reaching for the lid. “I’ll be here if you need me. You won’t be alone…”

Nandor’s arm shoots out faster than Guillermo’s mortal eyes can track. His wrist is suddenly encircled by cold, unyielding fingers. For a split second Guillermo is sent back to his early days as a familiar. He remembers the heart-stopping fear he felt watching his master feed, the terror whenever Nandor would raise his voice to complain about some petty detail. He’s trapped, caught in the grip of an unholy predator whose dark, fathomless eyes draw him in, lulling him into surrender. 

And then Nandor turns his wrist, lacing his fingers through Guillermo’s and holding his hand against his broad, unmoving chest. He gives a little squeeze and Guillermo doesn’t dare breathe lest he shatter this moment.

“Will you do this for me, Guillermo?” Nandor asks, shyly looking up into his familiar’s eyes. “Will you hold my hand just...just until I fall asleep?”

Guillermo blinks furiously, banishing the joyful tears that threaten to spill. He thinks back to every time Nandor has snarled and cringed away from his touch. And now here he is seeking it out, asking for something to which he has no right, this small scrap of physical affection. For the smallest flicker of a second, Guillermo wonders how it would feel to turn the tables, to snatch back his hand with a sneer and turn away from Nandor’s needy eyes. 

“ _Of course I will_ , master,” Guillermo answers. There was never any question. Not really. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Nandor’s body relaxes back into his coffin and he clutches Guillermo’s hand to his chest almost like a teddy bear. His eyes drift shut and Guillermo watches with bated breath as he falls into an uncanny stillness so similar to a cadaver. He almost gasps when Nandor’s lips part to speak; it’s like a corpse coming back to life. 

“It’s silly. Embarrassing…” Nandor trails off, a little sigh escaping his lips. Guillermo thinks he might have fallen asleep, but after a long moment he continues in a syrupy-thick voice. “I dreamt I made you a vampire…”

It feels like a punch to his solar plexus. The wind goes out of him in a choking gasp. “W-what? But... that’s not so scary, is it?”

Nandor snaps his eyes open, flashing with irritation. “Maybe not to you! _Fucking guy_...you’re not the one has to watch someone he cares about die… maybe not ever wake up again. Ever think about that? Things can go wrong, you know!”

Guillermo’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and his cheeks burn with a furious blush. “O-oh! But that’s not common...right?”

His mind races, pitching back and forth like a ball on a tennis court. His master cares about him. His master worries about him dying--enough to have a nightmare about it! Making a new vampire is, apparently, more treacherous than he’d assumed? Is he prepared to risk death in order to achieve his life-long dream? The dream which started out so simple--become a vampire--and which is now layered with complexity thanks to his feelings for Nandor...

The vampire scowls as he watches Guillermo’s obvious thoughts flit over his face. “Alright, enough of this, Guillermo! I was only joking! I dreamt of Laszlo and Colin Robinson doing funny businesses together. Very unnerving. **You will forget about that other thing I said**.”

Nandor shuts his eyes, trusting that his hypnotic influence has been successful. Guillermo stands there, clinging to his master’s hand long after he’s fallen asleep.


End file.
